


Generation Dead

by She Who Must Not Be Named (HyJackedYerFandom)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dimension Travel, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Femslash, First War with Voldemort, M/M, Male Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyJackedYerFandom/pseuds/She%20Who%20Must%20Not%20Be%20Named
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've broken every law that the Ministry of Magic had on time travel - although surprisingly they appeared to be the first to rip a hole in their dimension.  But they have nothing left to lose.  They'd lost everything and though they'd won, they'd lost everything worth fighting for.  So they picked the place in time where, if they went back, would change the future of the dimension they landed in, for their own universe and dimension had unraveled.  So they went back to change the future.</p><p>With their previous knowledge held secret, they struggled to make a difference without unmaking the universe they found themselves in.  But, the real fear was that it wouldn't matter.  And now, they had even more to lose than before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Generation Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KiwiZira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiZira/gifts).



_The Forbidden Forest  
Roughly 7pm On August 3rd 1953_

 

Deep within the sinister forests that cupped the stone castle that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, far removed from the naked eye (even the magical eye) stood a dead clearing. The natural fauna of the Forbidden Forest avoided it, and nothing had grown within the clearing for ages. Dead trees stood like skeletal sentries ringing the clearing, as if standing in warning to not venture further. Even the birds detoured their flights around the area.

There was no life, no light.

At the center of the clearing stood a stone pedestal, with dry and lifeless vines that had once attempted to take over the forgotten relic. On the top of the stone pedestal rested a stone bowl roughly four feet across and five feet deep. Despite the recent rainfall, there was no rainwater or dew within the cup of the bowl.

The night sky was lit brilliantly by the fathomless stars and a full moon that was quickly being overtaken in a lunar eclipse. The world held its breath as the last light of the full moon was snuffed out in an eerie red glow.

Almost immediately, the center of the stone bowl filled with shadows that rippled from a wind that wasn’t touching anything else within the clearing. It soon overflowed, in thick wet ropes onto the ground underneath the pedestal. A low scream reverberated around the plinth, emanating from the bowl. Slowly and surely the scream increased and multiplied, and more wet ropes of smoke and ichor poured from the shadowed basin.

As the screams reached its height, a hand burst from the shadowed bowl, covered in black sludgy ichor. Another hand shot through the mire and gripped the edge of the bowl. Just opposite of it, another pair of hands burst from the dark, inky mess. Then, as if knowing that the full moon eclipse was already waning, time quickly sped up. An arm, four elbows, two bodies sliding against each other back to back slick and black with the strange wet ichor that filled the basin, waist and hips until two whole bodies had dragged themselves out of the muck. When the first lights of the moon graced the deadened clearing, it shined on the ichor covered bodies.

The screams had stopped, the bowl had stopped overflowing in shadow, and two figures stood facing one another, gasping for breath. The wet muck clung and dripped from their bodies, the drips falling into darkness, but slowly it was apparent that they wore clothing – tight fitting clothing perhaps, but clothing nonetheless. 

Once the vibrant moon was completely uncovered, a soft laugh echoed through the clearing. Soon, mad and wild laughter was ringing out in the night. With a last cackling laugh that chimed with two violent cracks, the strange and muck covered duo was gone.

~~

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  
September 13th, 1953

 

The year had started quietly, with students trying to wake up from their summer breaks and attend classes. Most teachers simply shook their heads and tried to pep them up with information and tasks to exercise their brains. The typical rivalries between the school houses had begun, as students started their Quidditch practices and training. 

Magical Britain was still recovering from the devastating attacks from World War II, not to mention the attacks perpetrated by the notorious Gellert Grindelwald. In the end, though, humanity was resilient and fought to find its purchase once again.

Still, there were many students that still felt the phantom touches of the Great War; they had lost brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. There were muggleborns in orphanages, and if a half-blood or pureblood lost their guardians, they were taken in by the closest relatives that they had. If there were no relatives to be had, they became wards of the state and were fostered with prominent wizarding families. There were rumbles of rebellions and Dark Magic, but so far it was obvious that Hogwarts was rather insulated despite having access to the newspapers and letters from him.

In the end, despite the wars, mayhem and death that the British Wizarding World had suffered, they were vastly unprepared for what awaited them on this particular day.

“McGonagall!” Was shouted down the hall between classes in midmorning.

A young woman whipped around, thick black hair falling in wisps from the once neat bun at the crown of her head. She was tall and thin, with the reach and build of a quality chaser. Absently, she adjusted the red and gold tie around her neck and flecked off imaginary dust from her skirts. Intelligent bright bottle green eyes were narrowed on the speaker, before she turned back to her friend Matilda Prewitt and smiled.

“I’ll be along soon,” she said, her thick burr dripping with sardonic amusement.

When the halls thinned out, Minerva McGonagall walked toward the speaker and sneered.

“Moody. This had better be good.”

A rough chuckle escaped the young man before her. Where she was tall and willowy, he was tall and broad with thick honey blonde curls that were a study in chaos. Chocolate brown eyes stared down at her from five inches above her, and his tie was loosely tied around his neck. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at her.

“Head Boy and Girl business, nothing more.” Alastor Moody said with a roll of his eyes.

“I still can’t believe they made you Head Boy.” Minerva said with a scoff as she hitched the strap of her book bag over her shoulder. “I’ll never understand their motivations.”

“You’re just upset that I beat you in Defense yesterday.” Alastor said, lacing his hands up behind his head and walking with an ambled sort of purpose towards the Headmaster’s Office. “There’s no shame in being second best,” he gave her a sad look before continuing on, “We all have to start somewhere.”

“Pig.”

“Now that’s just not nice,” Alastor said, looking offended. “I suppose you’re just touched with that Gryffindor sentimentality.”

“Like a Slytherin knows anything about sentiment.”

They continued to bicker back and forth and it became obvious that Alastor enjoyed riling up Minerva, which often left her sputtering and him smirking in victory. What also became obvious was that Minerva often bit her tongue and attempted not to let herself lose control and simply blast him across the hallway. She often simply rolled her eyes and hitched her shoulder to ignore him. Her honest belief was that he lived to irritate her.

And he succeeded rather well, blast it.

Soon enough, they stood before the stone gargoyle that guarded the headmaster’s office.

“Apis,” Alastor muttered and strode forward imperiously when the gargoyle leapt aside.

Minerva rolled her eyes again at the sheer gall of the man before following him up the winding staircase. By the time she reached the top, Alastor had knocked on the door and opened it. She was struck by the bareness of the office, perhaps she had simply grown used to her head of house and his vibrant, cluttered office. There was a single bookcase, a wide uncluttered desk, and several paintings were hung on the walls behind him seated at the desk, including the portraits of his predecessors.

When Minerva walked into the office she frowned at the two people already standing in front of the Headmaster.

“Ahh, Miss McGonagall and Mister Moody,” the headmaster’s soft voice still held a thread of censure despite them not having done anything.

Yet.

“Headmaster,” the Head Boy and Girl replied solemnly.

“I apologize for interrupting your classes, but I required your presence to welcome two additions to our hallowed halls,” the headmaster continued, getting to his feet and motioning to the two standing before his desk. His voice never rushed, never hurried in its pace. “Please welcome Harrison and Hermione Peverell.”

Minerva didn’t miss the tension in Moody’s back at the name, and though he didn’t make any outward action or sound, she got the impression that he was shocked. To be honest, she was just as shocked. The papers had exploded when two young adults walked into Gringotts nameless, and walked out as descendants of an ancient lineage.

Minerva moved to get a better look at the two new students to Hogwarts.

On the left stood a young woman, standing tall and strong with her hands folded in front of her demurely. Thick chestnut brown hair in curls and waves was tied away from a delicate face, and large brown eyes stared coolly out at them. She was only slightly taller than her compatriot, with willowy muscles and a no nonsense attitude about her. Minerva took a mental step back, and felt the weight of that icy stare and wondered just what the young woman was capable of. The only jewelry she wore was a Family ring on her right first finger.

On the right stood the young man, slouched at rest. Where the young woman was at attention, he looked as if he couldn’t care less about what anyone thought of him. Thick black hair was cut in such a way that the strands fell in front on his face, hiding his eyes from view. His hands were in his pockets, and his head was turned away from straight on view. One of the most obvious things to notice about the boy was the painfully thin body, and the shortness in height. Standing as he was, Minerva felt the urge to straighten him out and adjust his tie and hair. 

“Harrison has been sorted into Gryffindor, and Hermione into Slytherin.” Headmaster Dippet said in his slow way. “All of their belongings have been taken to their respective rooms. It is your tasks to show them around the school and orient them to their surroundings. Since it is a Friday, you are tasked to have them properly oriented before classes resume on Monday.”

“Yes Headmaster,” Minerva said clearly, while Alastor grunted his response of the same.

“You are dismissed.”

At that, all four youths turned and made their way down the stairs and into the hallway. There was a tense silence before the young woman, Hermione, spoke up.

“I hope that we haven’t monopolized too much of your time,” she said, glancing at the young man, Harrison.

When the dark haired boy scoffed, Hermione reached out and touched a painfully thin wrist. Minerva’s observant green eyes zeroed in on the gesture, and could see a slight tremble to both of their hands. The papers had attempted to find out every and any details about the new heirs of Peverell. According to the documents provided to the Ministry of Magic (which shouldn’t have been made public in the first place, but the story was simply just too sensational to waste propriety on), Hermione and Harrison had grown up together, studied together and trained together since they were children. They hadn’t known they were cousins, had in fact had no idea that they were distant cousins of the same family.

It became readily apparent that Hermione guarded her cousin viciously, as the few interviews that they had done before this move to Hogwarts demonstrated. Many families had stepped forward in order to foster the newly emerged duo; however Hermione and Harrison quickly nipped that in the bud and became emancipated do to their respective ages. They had vaults of galleons and artifacts that would make any Pureblood heir salivate, and they were suddenly the Wizarding World’s darlings.

“It’s absolutely fine,” Alastor said, again lacing his hands behind his head. “I can take you to the common room-“

“Actually, if you could point her in the direction of the library, I think you’d make her year.”

The boy finally spoke those words, and lifted his head. Green eyes locked on green eyes and Minerva frowned on the old soul that stared back at her. His eyes held no emotions, though his face spoke of sharp, dangerous amusement. Minerva flicked her gaze to the girl, Hermione, and found the heavy gaze on her as Minerva examined her cousin. Minerva wondered just what was going on in her head at that moment, but turned her eyes away from Hermione in the end.

“Perhaps that could be where we meet up for the day then,” Minerva offered to the group. “I doubt you’ll want to be separated for very long if at all possible.”

“No,” Hermione said, a slight waver in her voice as she spoke, “No, we’d not like to be separated for long. It has been a long time since we’ve been separated for longer than a few hours at a time.”

“Fortunately for you, Slytherin and Gryffindor have plenty of classes together. While we are rivals in the House Competition, family always comes first.”  
Minerva eyed the Head Boy in undisguised shock.

“Was that caring I heard in your voice, Moody?” Minerva said in shock.

“Hardly.”

A soft laugh caught Minerva’s attention, and she flashed a quick grin to a smiling Hermione. Harrison blinked those fathomless green eyes at them as if he couldn’t understand the language being used. Minerva wondered just what had happened to these two in their lives to make them so…older than they ought to be.

“So the library, say just after lunch?” Minerva said, and a soft look crossed her face as the two cousins faced one another.

“That alright with you?” Hermione asked Harrison, gripping his hand so tightly their fingers went bloodless and tangled together.

Harrison looked at his cousin, and a quick, sassy smile crossed his lips.

“I’ll be alright, ‘Mione…” Harrison said and a chuckle escaped him. “I think I can handle Gryffindor House. Have fun with Slytherin.”

“Oh ha ha.”

“No, really. Have fun.” Harrison patted Hermione’s hand condescendingly and drew a giggle from her.

Minerva and Alastor glanced at each other and shook their heads simultaneously. Obviously, there was something missing to the conversation, but neither of them had an idea of what it could be.

The foursome split at the staircases and with a quick glance over their shoulders, each pair went to their respective dorms. Perhaps they would all settle after a brief tour of the premier wizarding school in Britain. 

That’s what the Head Boy and Girl thought…before the two new students instigated two separate wars within twenty four hours.

**Author's Note:**

> For Katie. Damn you for getting me started on this. I've played with some, but not all, dates. This is a slow burn, on both main pairings and I'm taking a step out of my comfort zone and doing a femslash and I cannot contain myself from crowing in glee. Let me know what you think and what you think might have happened, why and what might happen. Bwahahah.
> 
> CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!!


End file.
